We slept well our first night at Boardwalk. There is something just calming about being in a hotel room. No dishes to be done. No trash to take out. No laundry to sort and or find forgotten about in the wash after a few days and then re-washing. A hotel equals no responsibility to the domestic person. That means there is more time to do other things which usually get bypassed in lieu of being responsible. One of those was our morning hotel ritual of reading the news and drinking coffee on the balcony over looking our “garden” view. Reading led to sharing what we read and that often lead to conversations. At home, our morning ritual was more rushed. Shower, grab a bagel, and flee to our individual cars to our individual work places. Not exactly a very romantic or relationship inducing lifestyle.
When we first got married I would make sure I was up early enough to make breakfast and then while I showered he would do the dishes. I would have packed him a lunch alongside mine and often would put notes in it to make him smile or remind him he was loved. Cute little tokens of affection that again, had weaned over time and that morning I did not know when the last time was I had put thought into things like that. Lately it was catered lunches with staff meetings for myself, so because I did not need a lunch, I had stopped making him his. Derrick was capable of grabbing his own. He is not an invalid by any means but his packing meant no notes from me. He never complained about it. Not once. Sipping our coffee while laughing over ridiculous criminals in the news, made me miss knowing we shared something in the morning. Something that was just ours and just about us and was a connection in the day when we were apart.
Making him notes again, became another thing on my, "to change list," when we got back home.
The plan was to get a quick run in, come back and shower and then head to Epcot. In less than 2 hours we had accomplished sweating while dodging strollers, showered and did not mind if the towels were left on the floor, grabbed ridiculously high caloried, sugared, breakfast pastries at the Bakery on the boardwalk and were entering World Showcase. I felt much better then the morning before.
Having no bags, we glided past the bag check and handed our passes to the ticket taker at International Gateway. No matter how many times I enter this way before the World Showcase opens, I never get past the excitement of feeling like we are breaking and entering. I feel like I had paid some bouncer to let us into an exclusive club and knew I was not supposed to be there. I was seeing a side of Epcot not everyone gets to. You feel like you need to be quiet and walk with stealth. When I told Derrick this, he offered to hide behind a topiary in England but I told him that was not necessary! It felt nice to joke with him and I was feeling better and better about my choice to come.
We grabbed FP’s for Soarin and then jumped in the standby line anyway. It is one of our favorite rides, so why not enjoy it twice? The crowds were already quite large and the wait was posted at 45 minutes. Normally I am the type of person who hates standing in any lines. My shopping is done over the internet if at all possible, including groceries. Today though I was concentrating on the moment and this moment I was with Derrick.
While he was standing, I took the time to notice the detail again in his clothes and grooming. He always had pride in what he wore and today was sporting an orange Lacoste polo with a dark khaki short. His shoes were just a simple pair of dark blue Teva’s but his tanned legs and arms brought the whole package together. He was handsome. He still was to me and I knew to others as well. It was hard to miss the glances and stares of single and even married women, when we passed by. He was one of those men women just looked at and appreciated. Like a piece of art.
I always felt plain in comparison to him but this morning, had spent the extra 15 minutes putting on my make-up and layering the body spray and lotion and perfume had gotten me the past birthday. Nothing so overwhelming you might assume I worked in one of the French boutiques in Epcot but subtle and precise so it would last throughout the day. Another easy thing I had cut out of my daily ritual and to be truthful, it made me feel better about myself as much as I was hoping he would notice.
The line ended up being much less than the posted time, 30 minutes or so and after flying over the orange groves and pine trees and snow capped mountains, we were ready to get into a boat and see what new produce might be in "The Land." I lamented again how I wished someday we could take a “Behind the Seeds Tour.” I would simply need to buckle down, make the plans and commit to it. There was always a fear in my head that wondered if it would be worth the money.
Derrick asked me why I was worried about that piece? I mean we had money to pay our bills, put money into savings and then some. We were better off right now than many of our friends and yet I still always wanted it to be the perfect opportunity before I parted with something that seemed extra frivolous on top of a vacation. He told me to stop by the desk on the way out and see if we couldn't just book it. I told him I was still not sure. He again, asked why?
I honestly did not know the answer completely. It probably was a rhetorical question from him because I doubted he expected me actually to have an answer. I often put things on the back burner because I felt bad about a situation or a purchase. I had a habit of letting the fear it was not the best price or the best time or the best something, run my life. I could always come up with reasons a situation lent itself to not making a purchase or a decision. It was that way for as long as I can remember and it led to some fights between Derrick and I. There was the time we needed a new couch and I had a charity pick up our old one only to spend six months not having any living room furniture to sit on because I was waiting for the best sale and the perfect design and style I envisioned. Sitting on dining room chairs watching football was not the way he intended on spending that Fall. His friends offered one Saturday to just go to the local furniture store and surprise us.
It was not Derrick holding me back. He did not care what I picked as long as I picked something and yet, I just could not come down to signing my name on any slip, promising my dedication to any one piece of furniture. I ended up getting a beautiful sofa and love seat and while I do love it very much, I wonder if it was perfect still and it has been 3 years. I still wander furniture stores, in looks of perfection in fabric. Maybe perfection in me.
Here was a chance to do a tour I would love to do, money was not a concern for now and I was punishing myself by not taking action. It was like I could not give myself permission to be happy. To just make a choice and know the outcome would be okay no matter how it went. To do something just about me and for me. When Derrick felt strongly about something I was always glad because it was not my fault or success on the line. Like with the furniture, he would not mind doing the tour but I knew it was more my decision and that lead to inaction. I hated that part of myself and yet felt paralyzed to do anything about it. How do you stop being self destructive when the destruction is not specific? If I was an alcoholic I could go to AA. If I was an overeater I could go to OA. Where do people go when they stall, stagnate and not trust themselves? I mean there are therapists and I had worked with a confidence workshop once but if I can’t explain what is wrong, how can anyone explain it to me?
It was my personal constraints I placed on myself. It was my jail cell. I had the keys to unlock and be free but I was so afraid of what was on the outside, I just let them lie there. I had placed the sentence on myself and it would be up to me to set myself free. I just wasn't sure yet how exactly that would go or what specifically it would look like.
The Land proved to be a nightmare. It was a laugh out loud, nightmare. We were floating along just fine when soon after departure, our boat came to a complete stop. We were not even in any exciting area so we had something to entertain ourselves with. It was where the wheat pictures and farm history is shown. There was the basic information passed on, saying that we would be moving shortly and apologizing for any inconvenience. We were to remain seated, in case a swim was in our thought process! That was when a woman, aged 60 in my best guess, started to say she would be filing a complaint with headquarters if she did not get off this boat and to her lunch reservations. We all sort of looked at each other and smiled. I did not think she was going to be getting any Disney Magic from any CEO’s for being inconvenienced. A few more minutes went by and then she huffed again and said she wanted to get out and would walk back to the loading area. Yelled in fact, she would not be taking no for an answer. The only thing she did not offer was to take hostages.
It got quieter in the boat and then, when the reassuring, calm words of our guide was not enough to keep her sane, I thought we may have to restrain her. I kept wondering where her reservations were that were so important she was thinking of literally jumping ship? LeCellier might have caused concern but not to this level of nuclear explosion. She was a few rows back and my best description is that she looked like Mrs. Roper from, “Three’s Company.” I imagined her jumping overboard, bobbing and sloshing her way back to the loading area, fake blue pearl strands floating at her neck or waist, depending on depth of the water. That vision caused me to giggle and that caused me to try and stifle the laughter.
Within seconds I had the hiccups from swallowing my chuckles. I have horrendous hiccups. Loud and obnoxious and I need water to help them go away. We were surrounded by water but had no water with us to drink. The irony was appreciated. I sounded like a duck every 8 seconds on the nose. I tried to hold my breath and I tried to bite the inside of my lip to create pain enough to alter my breathing. It was worth a shot. It did not work. So I went back to holding my breath. Every 10 seconds you could hear me suck in air and every 8 seconds, a mallard was landing. In the background Mrs. Roper was huffing and puffing. We sounded like some sort of red neck band. All that was missing, was the moonshine jug.
Pretty soon everyone around me was laughing as well. Mrs. Roper said she did not appreciate being made fun of. This caused more laughter. I thought she might well indeed clobber someone with her purse.
It was probably a 15 minute delay and we never did find out why we were stuck in the wheat abyss. We did though, get pictures of the pumpkins and tomatoes shaped like Mickey and say our goodbyes to the fish who were destined to be dinner. The mood was light and Derrick squeezed my hand as we exited the ride. He thanked me for being entertaining and not being Mrs. Roper!
But I sure as heck would not go on a vacation with him the next day. Or let him sweet talk me less than 24 hours later. Which is why I think this TR is 75% fiction because I cannot imagine anyone being OK with this type of communication unless he's been abusive mentally their entire relationship because that is mental abuse. Doesn't mean I am not entertained by fiction 
so I continue to read!
Please
